


Muted Light

by BrightBlueEyes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightBlueEyes/pseuds/BrightBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early morning hours...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muted Light

**Author's Note:**

> With a thousand thanks to my beautiful betas The_Honeyed_Moon (seriously, read her thinky smutty things) and Lady V.   
> And a million to my sexy French waffle, Adele, who knows all about comma splices and mislaid punctuation. Nom nom.
> 
> My first foray into the land of actual sexy times, so be gentle :)

Sherlock wakes, just barely, to the feel of teeth gently scraping at his hip. There's motion near his his ankle, knuckles maybe?

 

'Mmphf?'

 

'Shit. I didn't mean to wake you. Shhh.' John slides up Sherlock's side to stroke his hair. Sherlock remembers falling asleep at some point last night after a case that took days. There had been very little sleep. 

 

'John?' Words attempt to coalesce.

 

'Its alright, love. I'm sorry I woke you. I just-' Even in the muted light of the early morning Sherlock can see the pinking of John's cheeks. 'I woke up a little while ago and you were... You were hard and rubbing against me and I thought you were awake and it wasn't until I turned round I realised you weren't awake and I thought-'

 

Sherlock's lips turn John's attempt at explanation to a moan which Sherlock happily swallows down. His tongue meets with John's even as his hand manoeuvres John’s hand back to his own cock. Sherlock pulls away and looks up at him sleepily.

 

'Go on then,' He directs. 'Tell me.'

 

John hisses on the down stroke and turns to bite down on Sherlock's deltoid. 

 

'It's been almost a week and a half since we've touched each other, John.' Sherlock stills John's wrist and grasps his chin, forcing their eyes to lock. 'Tell. Me.'

 

'Your arm was around me. Your hand was on my cock. You were-ah, you were rubbing yourself against my arse. I thought you were awake. I thought you had woken up-'

 

'And so when you realised I was still asleep, you thought you'd have a nice quiet wank, John?'Sherlock leans down and licks at the spot just behind John's ear and releasing his captive wrist. 'Thought that you'd lie down next to me while I slept, push your face into my balls and stroke yourself off quietly, John?'

 

John grabs hold of Sherlock’s arms and positions himself atop the detective.

 

'Yes.' John's eyes are suddenly fever bright, and he slots his lube slicked cock next to Sherlock's. He leans down to bite at Sherlock’s nape, dragging his groin upwards.

 

'But you're not asleep now, Sherlock.' John trails his balls over Sherlock's sac and grinds down just enough to relieve the pressure. John opens his mouth, tongue against tongue, meeting teeth and lips and heat. Presses his hands down into the bed by Sherlock’s shoulders and raises himself ever so slightly, cock dragging against cock. John's hips stutter slightly as Sherlock grabs a palmful of arse cheek, trying to bring them closer together, seeking more friction. When that doesn't work, he wraps his long leg around John's shorter one and flips them, grinning.

 

Sherlock bumps his nose against John's and then bites down on his chin, causing him to hiss and jerk. He traces his tongue down John's neck and sternum. Pausing at his belly to bite John's belly button, Sherlock rubs his morning stubble lightly on the head of John's cock, earning him a loud groan. 

 

Sherlock swirls his tongue around the glans and watches pleasure flush over John's face and down his torso. John reaches down and his hands thread through Sherlock's hair, as the taste of salt and bitter exploding onto Sherlock's tongue. He reaches down and finds the bottle John had discarded earlier and coats his fingers while his lips continue caressing the underside of John's prick. 

 

Expletives fall from John's mouth as Sherlock slips one and then a second finger into him. Just barely, to the second knuckle, working in tandem with his mouth sliding up and down John’s cock. Sherlock can feel John’s toes begin to curl, clutching at his hip and the sheets beneath. A slightly less than gentle tug at his hair stops Sherlock, and he looks up.

 

'Stop- you- up- please,' John breathes, scrabbling at Sherlock’s arms and pulling in the general direction of up. He meets Sherlock halfway, bending in the middle and melding their mouths together. John pulls, clutching at Sherlock’s arse with his feet, pulling them face to face. Sherlock sits up, wraps his hand around both their cocks and grinds himself down as hard as he can. 

 

'Fuck, that’s gorgeous. Jes- Sher-' John gives up on coherent speech and watches Sherlock fuck his fist. There’s more lube; Sherlock sees John’s fingers disappear under him; he scrabbles off John’s lap to watch, stroking his prick. One knee up and a foot off to the side, spreading himself. John’s other hand reaches for Sherlock’s cock, pulling him close. Sherlock bends in the middle.

 

With a soft kiss John says, 'Please.'

 

His hand comes back up to cup himself as Sherlock comes closer, placing his knees just under John’s thighs. Gently, slowly, Sherlock pushes forward until just the head of his cock pops through the ring of muscle and John moans.

 

'So fucking good. Close, Sherlock, please-' John strokes slowly downward on his cock, and Sherlock picks up their rhythm again. He watches his cock dip in and slide back out slowly, feels the tightening of his balls as his orgasm spirals upwards through the base of his spine. With a little snap up of his hips Sherlock feels John clench around his cock, sees John come, covering his chest and neck in clear stripes. He grasps at John’s thigh for one, two more thrusts and then is gone, burying himself in his lover and doubling over with the force of it. 

 

‘John’ is whispered into the doctor’s neck as kisses are placed randomly. John strokes up and down Sherlock’s back with one hand and reaches into the bedside drawer for a strategically placed towel. 

 

‘Off, you bloody octopus.’ 

 

‘Mmm’

 

John tips to the side and rolls Sherlock off so he can wipe up most of the mess, muttering about lazy arses before pulling up the duvet. Sherlock lays his head on John’s shoulder and grumbles.

‘Sleepy.’


End file.
